


Maybe

by FallingLikeThis



Series: Finding Draco [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Forgiveness, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, M/M, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sappy, about a year later, making amends, no eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: He stops at the door and takes a deep breath. All he has to do is slip the letter through the mail slot and he’ll be done with it. He could have sent the letter with his owl Ulysses but Draco has come to the decision that some things, the big things, should be done on one’s own. Giving an overdue apology, mending a bridge, healing the scars on one’s own heart. These things are not tasks that can be passed along to others. He’s not quite brave enough to stand before Harry Potter face to face and say all the things he knows need saying, but he can at least show up to deliver a letter. They’re his own words, written by his own hand. It’s as close as he can get right now.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Finding Draco [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567915
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88
Collections: Secret Santa Ficlets and Drabbles





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phdmama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/gifts).



Draco isn’t entirely sure about this. In fact, his uncertainty is the only thing he _is_ sure about. He wraps his scarf tighter around his neck as he stares at Harry Potter’s house looming in front of him. 

He should turn around and go home right now. He should rip up the letter in his pocket and just go. Words will never fix all the things he’s broken. He should definitely turn around--but... _no_ , he spent the entirety of his teenage years allowing himself to be a coward, he will not spend his adult life being one. 

“Right,” he says, trying to bolster his confidence as he walks toward the house. “One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.”

Adolescent Draco would be mocking his older self right now, making fun of him for putting any stock into the words of a mind healer, but adolescent Draco also hadn’t been through the terrors that he has at this point. He hadn’t been a prisoner in his own home, hadn’t been forced to hold the lives of other people in his own quivering hands. He hadn’t had someone lie for him, kill for him. That Draco had no blood on his hands, while this Draco feels like his will never be wiped clean. 

He stops at the door and takes a deep breath. All he has to do is slip the letter through the mail slot and he’ll be done with it. He could have sent the letter with his owl Ulysses but Draco has come to the decision that some things, the big things, should be done on one’s own. Giving an overdue apology, mending a bridge, healing the scars on one’s own heart. These things are not tasks that can be passed along to others. He’s not quite brave enough to stand before Harry Potter face to face and say all the things he knows need saying, but he can at least show up to deliver a letter. They’re his own words, written by his own hand. It’s as close as he can get right now. 

Pulling the letter out of his pocket, Draco stares at it, trying to remember all the words contained within. Are they enough? If not, maybe someday he’ll be able to offer better ones in person. 

It seems so easy, sliding the letter through the slot. He meets no resistance, can hear the moment it thwacks against the hardwood floor on the other side, waiting to be discovered. It takes with it the weight on his chest. Not all of it, but a large portion. 

Sighing, job done, Draco turns to leave. He’s completed his task and he’s proud of himself. Now, it’s up to Harry to decide whether or not to read it, whether or not to believe it, whether or not to respond. 

The creak of the door opening behind him makes Draco freeze in place, slowing turning his head to look over his shoulder. 

Harry stands in the doorway holding his letter in one hand and looking at Draco with confusion. “Draco?”

Draco turns the rest of his body, standing before Harry as openly as he can. “Hello, Po-- Harry,” he says, stumbling over the correct name. They are not nemeses any more. There is no reason to distance himself in such a way. 

“What is this?” Harry asks, looking down at the letter he holds. It’s unopened and Draco hopes it stays that way until he’s far away from here.

“A letter,” Draco answers, the acerbic tone that colors his answer unintentional. He softens, immediately feeling guilty for falling into his old habit of automatically going on the defensive, and corrects himself. “An apology.”

Harry takes a step further, almost but not quite stepping outside the warmth of his doorway. “For what?”

Draco shrugs simply because the list is too long to name. They’d be here all night. “Everything.”

“Draco, I haven’t seen you since your trial,” Harry says, eyes imploring him to make sense. “That was over a year ago.”

“I know. And thank you for speaking on my behalf. It meant a lot,” Draco says, looking at the ground because it’s hard to look at Harry.

“Why now though?” Harry asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for Draco’s answer.

“I, uh, I had a lot of work to do… on myself... before I could get to a place where I even felt like I might deserve a second chance, so… that’s why now,” Draco looks up again as he replies, not liking the way he’s stumbling over his words. 

Harry looks like he wants to take another step, to cross over that threshold and take a step outside. “A second chance for what?” He asks, barely more than a whisper.

Draco takes a step back, not quite ready to admit all the things he wishes he could do over. “Just read the letter, Harry. Please.”

Harry looks down at the letter, cradling it in his hands like it’s something delicate. Draco supposes maybe it is. He’s sure he’s left pieces of himself behind on those pages.

“What happens after I read it?” Harry asks, searching out Draco’s gaze. He’d always admired Harry’s ability to face whatever was going on in his life head-on. Draco has never been strong enough for that.

“That’s up to you. Why don’t you let me know when you finish?” Draco says, taking another backward step and then another. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

Finally, he turns, walking back the way he came. He can feel Harry’s gaze on his back until he turns the corner. 

*

Harry stares down at the pages covered with Draco’s careful script. He’s read them three times and he’s still not certain what happens next. He skims the pages once more, eyes catching on the parts that speak the most about who Draco really is now, the ones that scream out for an answer. 

“I won’t make excuses for myself. I knew what was right, even back then, but I was too afraid to stand against my parents, against _him_. I think I could do it now. I think I’d try at least…

… I know what that battle cost me and I know I’ll probably never know all that it cost you, but please know that I’d give it all back if I could. Everything I did that contributed to the losses we’ve all faced, I wish I could undo it all. But wishes don’t really mean much, do they…

… Is it silly that of all the horrible things I’ve done, the one I regret the most was our initial conversation that first night at Hogwarts? Can you imagine how different things could have been if we’d only been friends, if I hadn’t been such a spoiled brat regurgitating the poison that had been poured in my ears by my father? I can. I have many times, many nights…

...I think it will be a long time before I am done saying I’m sorry and I can only hope that you’ll accept my apologies. I am not asking you to forgive me, Harry. I’m not sure I believe that you should or even that I could accept your forgiveness. I’m only just getting to a place where I think I might be able to forgive myself. But that’s important, right? Forgiving yourself. So I think I’m on the right path. Maybe one day that path will lead me to your door and I’ll be able to say all these things out loud, maybe then I’ll be worthy of your forgiveness. “

Harry runs his figures over the signature on the bottom of the last page. Draco had signed it “Sincerely and apologetically yours, Draco Malfoy.”

Those words, they _mean_ something. Not just that Draco is sorry. He’d said _yours._ He’d spoken of being worthy. He’s wondered what would have happened if they’d actually been friends. 

Harry’s thought about that too. He’s imagined being friends with Draco too many times to count. He knows that Draco was always on his radar when they were in school together, that he always knew where Draco was in any room, that the reason for that had nothing to do with Draco being his enemy. If they had been friends, Harry would have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. Hell, he was probably half in love with him anyway. 

So, what happens now? Draco had left that answer in Harry’s hands. And he thinks he knows what it is. 

Dropping the letter on the table, Harry moves quickly to the closet to grab his coat. He’s got an answer to give. 

*

Draco has been waiting for Harry Potter for two hours. He’s certain at this point that he’s waiting in vain but he still doesn’t move from the chair he’s in as he watches the rain pelt against his window. It had started an hour ago, which is convenient now because it matches the direction of Draco’s mood. He takes a sip from the one glass of wine he’d decided to allow himself before he’d given up hope. He could empty it and refill it, get wine drunk and crawl into bed feeling sorry for himself. But that feels kind of like moving backward. 

He swallows the last little bit of wine and stands up to take the empty glass to the kitchen when there’s a knock at his front door, the raps short and frantic-sounding. 

Draco opens the door to find Harry standing there soaking wet, glasses slightly askew. 

“Get in here,” he says, dragging Harry inside by his coat and closing the door against the wind and rain. “Don’t move. Let me get you a towel.”

“Draco--”

“Seriously,” Draco warns with a stern look, “do not drip over my floors. Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

Harry stays and Draco is back a minute later with a fluffy pink towel that used to be white. Harry doesn’t need to know that though. 

“Thanks,” Harry says, accepting the towel and drying himself off as best he can. “I wasn’t expecting you to open the door.”

“Of course, I did. It would be rude not to,” Draco says, collecting Harry’s drenched coat. 

“No, I didn’t expect _you_ to answer it. I thought I’d have to talk my way past a house elf or something. I had a speech practiced and everything,” Harry admits with a laugh. 

Draco doesn’t know how he does that, just admits things that might get him laughed at, made fun of. Perhaps that’s just part of his Gryffindor spirit. Whatever it is, Draco wishes he had it. 

“Oh. I don’t have any house elves anymore. I freed them,” Draco says, eyeing Harry’s wet shoes warily. “Will you take your shoes off, please?”

“Oh,” Harry replies, looking down at his shoes. They’re a mess. “Yeah, of course,” he complies, kicking them off and pushing them into the corner with one foot. “Look, I think we should talk about that letter.”

“You’re shivering,” Draco notices as Harry wraps his arms around himself. 

“Well, yeah, it’s pretty cool in here,” Harry agrees hurriedly, trying not to let himself be distracted. “But what I wanted to say--”

“I should get you some clothes too,” Draco murmurs, trying to walk away but Harry catches his wrist with a cold, wet hand. 

“Please, Draco. You asked for an answer. I’m trying to give it to you.”

Draco pauses. He knows he’s running from whatever answer Harry has brought him. Even if it’s favorable, it’ll still be scary new territory. He licks his lips, making a deal with himself. Just a few more minutes in ignorant bliss and then he’ll face it. Whatever it is, he’ll accept it. He just needs a little more time. “I don’t want you to get sick because of me,” Draco says, placing a warm hand over Harry’s cool, damp one. “Just let me get you some clothes and then I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. I promise.”

Harry breathes, staring into Draco’s eyes, trying to read the truth. “Okay,” he agrees eventually. 

Draco nods, acknowledging the reprieve he’s received. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry’s standing in the same spot, fidgeting with his wet shirt when Draco arrives with dry pajamas and a fluffy dressing robe. “Sorry, I don’t know what else I have that might fit.” He passes the clothes to Harry and directs him to the loo where he can change.

While he waits for Harry to return, he retrieves another wine glass from the kitchen, placing it and the bottle of red wine on the table in the drawing room after he pours himself another glass and sits on the plush sofa to wait. He’s working on being more courageous, but the amount he thinks he needs for the conversation he’s about to have feels a little too far out of reach. 

“I forgive you.”

Draco turns slowly, looking at Harry standing there in the doorway. He looks warm and cosy in Draco’s clothes and Draco has to turn away again, fighting the yearning it causes in his chest. He’d told Harry in his letter about wondering what it would be like if they had been friends, but he hadn’t said anything about how often he’d imagined them as more. “You can forgive so easily? Just a few apologetic words and that’s all it takes?” He doesn’t dare believe it. It’s too easy and nothing in Draco’s life has ever been easy. 

“We were children,” Harry says, sitting down next to Draco hesitantly. He’s left a little space between them that Draco simultaneously wishes would grow and disappear altogether. “When you were cruel, it’s because it’s what you were taught. When you did all those things you said in your letter that you regret, it was because you were trying to protect the only people you thought cared about you.” Harry reaches out, wrapping a hand around Draco’s wrist, holding him steady when he feels like he’s about to shatter apart. _How does he know that Draco needs that?_ “So, yes, it is easy to forgive you, Draco, because when my life was in your hands, you saved me. And _now_ , you’re not that boy you were back at Hogwarts. You’re a man who went out and sought a way to become a better person and from what I can tell, it’s working.” 

If Draco were the man he wishes he were, brave and deserving of someone like Harry, he thinks maybe he would kiss him right now. It might be unwelcome, but something in Harry’s eyes makes him think that even if it was, they could recover from it. “I wish I could go back and do it over,” he whispers to Harry, eyes filling with the emotion he was always taught to hold back. “Do it better.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry promises, lifting a hand to cup Draco’s cheek, tenderly brushing away a tear with his thumb. “We’re here. We made it. Maybe we took the long way, but we made it here.”

Draco lets out a shuddery breath, something like hope rising in his chest without his permission. “And where is ‘here’, exactly?”

Harry’s lips twitch up in one corner. “Friends, if that’s what you want. Or…”

Draco watches as Harry’s tongue darts out to lick his lips before he bites down on the bottom one like he’s afraid to say more. 

“Or?” Draco prompts, encouraging him to continue, to say the words that Draco’s heart beats in anticipation of. 

Harry’s hand slips back to the nape of Draco’s neck as he leans in, slowly but fearlessly pressing his lips to Draco’s. 

It’s all Draco needs for all his walls to come tumbling down. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him closer, changing their kiss from something chaste and shy into something longing and desire-fueled as he tilts his head and parts his lips. 

Harry’s hands run through Draco’s hair softly, so careful with him as they kiss until both of their lips are plump and chapped. “So,” he says, with one last press of his lips before he pulls away far enough that Draco knows he’s not supposed to chase him. “Are you okay with this? Us, like this?”

“I’m scared if that’s what you’re asking,” Draco confesses, feeling for the first time in his life like it’s okay to. “I’ve never had anything like this before. Something that I wanted this much… something that actually mattered. But I won’t run. Not from this. Not from you.”

“Good,” Harry says, kissing Draco softly. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Thank you,” Draco tells him, looking at Harry like he’d lasso the moon for him. “I was lost for so long. Thank you for finding me.”

“Draco,” Harry sighs, caressing his cheek. “I should be thanking _you_ for finding _yourself_. It’s because of you that we made it here. Not me. _You_.”

Draco gives Harry a half-smile and its beautiful even with the slight arrogance that Harry can see in his eyes. “I mean, _I am_ pretty great.”

“Git,” Harry laughs fondly, smacking Draco on the shoulder. 

“You like it,” Draco teases, holding Harry closer. 

“Maybe,” Harry concedes, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I like _you_.”

“I like you too,” Draco murmurs into Harry’s hair, marveling at himself a moment later. 

Was he just honest about his feelings??? Out loud? Wow. It was almost... easy. Maybe finding his courage won’t be as hard as he thought. Especially when he has the saviour of the wizarding world on his side. Though, apparently, he doesn’t need a saviour. It seems he’s kinda capable of saving himself. Who knew? 

But while he may not _need_ a saviour _,_ he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting one. Well, at least _this one_. This one he can’t get enough of. 

Never could. Never will. 

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope I got this right. If you liked it, here is a [fic post](https://fallinglikethis.tumblr.com/post/189908098714/maybe-by-fallinglikethis-words-2986-chapters) you can reblog to share it. Thank you!


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